


Nightshades

by Cal14



Series: Mother Of Learning - Short Stories [9]
Category: Mother of Learning - nobody103
Genre: Coming Out, Gen, Imaya Kuroshka-centric, Supportive Ilsa Ziletti, Trans Female Character, Trans Imaya Kuroshka, Young Imaya Kuroshka & Ilsa Ziletti, is this fic any good? prob not. but i needed to write this. so., posted it mostly because the world deserves more trans imaya too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:29:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26863687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cal14/pseuds/Cal14
Summary: Imaya Kuroshka knows who she is. She knows what she wants.But sometimes it’s just so hard to ask for it.
Relationships: Imaya Kuroshka & Ilsa Ziletti
Series: Mother Of Learning - Short Stories [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1579648
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	Nightshades

“Hey, you alright?” Ilsa asks. Imaya can feel herself spiraling down, but the two of them are walking through the city, and she really doesn’t want to be seen in public like this. 

“Of course. You said you wanted to buy some nightshades, didn’t you? Let’s get to it already,” Imaya tells her as she tries to get her to walk faster. After all, the sooner they were finished here, the sooner Imaya could go back to her dorm. 

“ _ ~~Imaya~~_ ,” Ilsa calls out, her voice on edge, stopping. “What’s wrong? You’re acting weird.” 

And there it is, again. 

“It’s- it’s nothing,” Imaya says. “Don’t worry about it. Can we just get this done, already? I have a Spell Formula homework I haven’t finished yet, and you know I suck at those.” 

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Ilsa continues, as though Imaya hadn’t talked. “I mean, I guess it might be hard talking about your feelings with a girl, but I wouldn’t mind, you know? You’re my best friend. If you’re not feeling up to it we can go back to the school and buy the nightshades tomorrow.” 

Imaya has to repress the urge to sigh. A part of her wants to just run out of the street and hide in some corner until she feels a tiny bit better, but she knows that’s something she can’t do. 

“It doesn’t matter. I’m fine, really. Can we go buy the nightshades?” There’s a bit of an edge in her voice, but Imaya really can’t help it. She’s tired, she wants to be alone, and more than anything she wishes things could be different. But what can she do? What’s she supposed to do? There’s no guide on this. Or at least she’s never found one. These feelings have always been there, they didn’t come with a step-by-step plan to solve them.

“Alright… if you say so,” Ilsa agrees, and then they’re on their way. 

They stop talking after that. There’s nothing left of their usual chatting when they open the door, or when Ilsa asks the shopkeeper for the items. Only silence remains once the shopkeeper leaves after announcing that the nightshades are kept in the back of the shop. 

Imaya sees Ilsa squirm uncomfortably beside her, and hates herself for being so difficult. If only she were normal then she wouldn’t be such a bad friend. Ilsa is the only person in their class that even stands her, and Imaya, like always, is being an idiot and pushing her away. 

“Sorry for snapping, before,” Imaya offers quietly. 

“Sorry if I pushed too much,” Ilsa answers her. 

“No, that’s not… I’m glad you care. It’s just…” Imaya fumbles. 

“Just?” Ilsa prompts, and Imaya might’ve just said something, might’ve just finally opened up after months of dancing around the subject, but then the shopkeeper comes back and Imaya’s walls rapidly slam down back in place. 

“Sorry if I took long,” the shopkeeper says, amicably. “The nightshade box was below the box with troll blood bags, I don’t know why- my assistant’s a bit of a dummy, everyone knows that troll blood should be stored at the farthest end of a room to avoid making the whole room all smelly. It’s whatever, though. Here are your nightshades, miss, and- is your friend alright? He’s looking a bit pale.” 

Imaya does her best not to flinch. She doesn’t think anyone noticed, and she goes to open her mouth to answer the woman before Ilsa beats her to it. 

“He’s alright, just had a bit of a bad day, I think. How much are the nightshades?” she asks, changing the subject as she gets her wallet out of her purse. 

Imaya sighs, and pushes down the discomfort growing inside her. They are almost done, and she’ll be back in her room in no time. Ilsa has no bad intentions, Imaya knows that. Ilsa has no bad intentions since she doesn’t even _know_ , because Imaya is too much of a coward to even voice her feelings out loud, but sometimes Imaya wishes things were different. 

Ilsa finishes paying for the nightshades soon after, and they’re quickly on their way back to the dorms. Imaya is at least thankful that, as a third year, she doesn’t have to share a room with her old roommate anymore. Those first two years had been horrible, what with the guy being extremely disorganized and never respecting the boundaries she tried to set. 

“...Do you want to talk about it?” Ilsa asks gently as they pass through the back gardens of the school, just behind the dorm buildings. 

“About what?” Imaya asks back, though she knows perfectly well what the other is referring to, stopping in place beside Ilsa. 

“There’s something bothering you,” the other girl starts, carefully. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. But could you at least stop pretending that you’re ‘fine’ when you’re acting so… weird? I know you’re a guy and you want to be all ‘strong’ and ‘independent’ but-” 

“I’m not.” 

And there it is. 

It takes Imaya a second to realize she said it outloud. She’s so used to saying it in her head, to reaffirming herself in her own mind that it simply sounds natural to let it out. There's a single moment of calm, when she doesn’t register any problem with the situation, before panic and regret set in.

Ilsa gives her a look, and Imaya’s mind is immediately racing with _you fucked up, you said too much, everyone will know, your life is ruined, why did you **talk**?_, before the girl in front of her scoffs and goes on talking.

“Please, _~~Imaya~~_ , I’ve known you for over two years. You always try to seem like nothing gets to you, but I know it does. I just don’t know what it _was_ this time. You can talk to me, you know that, right?” 

“Uh huh,” Imaya answers dumbly, heart racing and fear still numbing her body. “Yeah, that’s- that’s-” 

“I- You alright? Do you need to sit down? You look…” Ilsa says, and Imaya lets herself lean against the wall of the girls’ dorm building because suddenly she just feels so tired. Living like she does is like constantly walking around in circles, looking over her shoulder to try and see if she’s left anything behind, if she’s said too much, if people have looked too closely- and Ilsa is a sweet girl, but she can also be a bit dumb sometimes and Imaya is truly grateful for that in this moment, but also not because- because-

Because Ilsa said she could tell her anything. And there had been a moment where Imaya only felt calm. And Ilsa was a sweet, slightly dumb girl, who put up with Imaya so much that she couldn’t imagine her turning her back on her for something like this. 

“ _ ~~Imaya~~_?” 

“I meant. Before. When I said that, I meant that… I didn’t mean that I don’t want to look strong, though actually I don’t know about that, I don’t think I’m like that but it’s whatever, what I meant was… that...“ 

“Yeah?” Ilsa asks, a patient expression on her face. Imaya slides down to sit on the grass, and Ilsa does the same beside her. 

She breathes in, practices how the words sound in her head, and then repeats both actions again. She can see Ilsa growing impatient, but before the other girl can ask her to hurry up, Imaya takes a final breath and opens her mouth. 

“I’m not a guy.” 

Ilsa looks surprised. “Huh?” 

“I’m- I think I’m- I think I’m a girl. Or I want to be one. I just… it’s weird, and confusing, believe me, _I know_ , but…” Imaya stammers.

“So, like, you want to dress as a girl?” Ilsa asks, and Imaya can see the gears turning in her head, as the other girl tries to consider the new information from all angles as fast as humanly possible. 

Imaya chuckles. “It’s not just that. And anyway, there’s no way I could do that. How would the guys in our class look at me if I suddenly appeared in class wearing a dress?” she sighs. “No, I can’t do that. I was thinking of maybe… I don’t know… trying to change how I look and stuff like that after graduation? I’m still not sure about this. What if people think it’s wrong?” 

“I’ll beat them up for you, then,” Ilsa states so confidently that Imaya can’t find it in her not to believe her completely. “Is there anything you want to change _now_ , though? Like, I guess you’ll want me to refer to you as a girl, right? And what about your name? It’s a pretty, uh… masculine one.” 

“One question at a time, Ilsa,” Imaya scoffs fondly. “And I don’t know. I don’t think I want you to refer to me as a girl in front of our classmates. I don’t want them to know, at least not yet. But when it’s just the two of us… if- if you could do that, it’d mean a lot to me.” 

“Of course,” Ilsa smiles. “And your name? Should I avoid using it?” 

“Kind of. There’s… lately I’ve been… it’s dumb, I know, but… uh… I kind of like how the name ‘Imaya’ sounds. I- I understand if it’s weird to use it, but…” 

“It’s a nice name,” Ilsa interrupts her. “It fits you.” 

Ilsa’s smiling at her, and Imaya feels a weight drop from her shoulders, feeling so relieved and so happy that she’s surprised to find she’s not crying. She tries to smile back, but what comes out is probably not even close to resembling a normal smile like Ilsa’s. 

“It’s kind of weird only finding out your name now. It feels a bit like maybe I didn’t really know you that well before. I’m glad you told me this, though,” Ilsa says. She looks at the grass for a moment, plucking a blade with her fingers and twirling it in her hands. “You know, I’ve always wanted a girl best friend.”

“Hey,” Imaya protests. “What’s that supposed to mean? Did you not like me being your best friend before?”

Ilsa laughs. “Idiot. It means I like you even _more_ now.” 

_You’re just twisting your own words to your own benefit_ , Imaya thinks. 

“Oh!” Ilsa says, suddenly. “I just had a great idea. You’re about my size, aren’t you? What if I lend you some dresses? You don’t have to go out wearing them if you don’t want to, just to try it.” 

“I- Would that really be fine? I mean…” Imaya hesitates.

Ilsa rolls her eyes. “I don’t think there’d be any problem with you coming to my room to try them. Everyone in our class already thinks we’re dating or something, so it’s whatever.” Ilsa’s eyes turn wide open in a matter of seconds. “Wait! Do you think we could have girl sleepovers? I’ve always wanted to have those,” and Imaya can pretty much see the other girl’s eyes shining with excitement at the idea, so she really can’t do anything but nod her head and agree with the idea. “Great! We can paint each other’s nails and do each other’s make-up- I’m not very good at either of those things so I’ll apologize in advance, but we can learn together! Gods, you should have told me about this ages ago, imagine all the fun we could’ve had! But well, we can always make up for it now.” 

Imaya takes a look at her best friend, smiling bright like the sun, ranting off idea after idea, and her lips quirk upwards. 

In that moment, she’s truly glad to have her by her side. 

A few months later, when she decides to grow her hair out, Ilsa’s there, helping her trim it. Then, when she starts to wear skirts and dresses, Ilsa’s there to accompany her to the tailor, and to fend off any curious on-looker who might feel like giving their opinion on a matter that does not involve them. When Imaya knits her first project, a horrible pink and yellow scarf that would belong more in a monster’s neck rather than a teenage girl’s wardrobe, Ilsa’s there crying as Imaya gives it to her. Later, when Imaya finds a medicine that will help her be who she wants to be, Ilsa’s there to offer to move in together to cut down expenses, so she can afford it. When Imaya decides to get married, Ilsa’s right beside her as her bridesmaid, and when she gets divorced, Ilsa’s there holding her hand as Imaya signs the papers. 

All in all, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> haha so I’ve gotten misgendered and deadnamed a bunch of times after telling people my name/pronouns and it’s been taking a toll on my mental health lately so I decided to let off steam by writing a fic about it :) It’s a nice and positive one though. Kinda like how I wish people would have reacted when I came out? Idk. It's a bit of a vent-fic for me, I guess. 
> 
> this could probably be better, I didn't edit it much, but oh well. it is what it is.


End file.
